


Begin in the Past, Reclaim your future Or When Deities decide to meddle in your lives.

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Assassin Arya, Badass Arya, Breeding, Cuckolding, Cuckquean, Dark Jon Snow, Eventual Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, F/F, F/M, Fetish, Gen, House Targaryen, Impregnation, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon and Sansa are Cousins, Lyanna Stark Lives, Multi, Older Woman/Younger Man, Other, Porn, Porn With Plot, Queen Lyanna Stark, Sexual Slavery, Shameless Smut, Slavery, Underage Sex, Valyria
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-12 22:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19237954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: His death was not meant to be in the far North, alone in his unwarranted Shame and regret. The Gods decide to send him back, far into the past, to build a neverending legacy.





	1. Death, A council, Rebirth.

Begin in the past, Reclaim your future.

Chapter 1

Jon Snow blinked wearily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around the small Hovel of a hut that had been his home in the far north for 60 years. He had been twenty eight when the destruction of kings landing had happened, twenty when he had killed the Queen he swore loyalty to. Twenty eight when he had been banished to the Nightswatch once more and instead left with Tormund and the remaining Freefolk.

Oh Tormund. The mangy old Giantsbane had died 10 years back, still asking if Jon thought the “Big woman” would enjoy him visiting her. Jon had just smiled at that. “I think she would old friend. I'm sure she misses your stories.” Tormund had been happy to hear that. Jon didn't have the heart to tell his friend that Brienne of tarth had died peacefully in her sleep, Ser podrick taking the place of his mentor as Commander of the Kingsguard. Oh well. Jon was sure that if ever there was a paradise beyond the darkness he had seen, Tormund was happily chasing Brienne...and swatting Jaime Lannister upon the head whenever he could for breaking her heart. At the very least, Jon had been around to council and aid Tormund's sons and daughters whenever they needed him. They called him grandfather, something that warmed his heart.

Jon woke unsteadily to his feet before finding his bearings, busying himself with lighting a fire and preparing some roasted Elk meat upon it. As the meat cooked and he warmed his old bones, he couldn't help but let his mind wander of all that now was.

Sansa, bless her, had never married again. Though strong in spirit and bearing while being Queen of the North and being praised up and down the country as the Queen who brought both economic growth and stability to the north, Sansa had never found a man outside her own family she could trust fully with her heart. All in all, she had borne seven healthy and strong children for the Stark family, 3 daughters and 4 sons, all from different and unknown fathers from what he had heard. She had died a few years back, leaving the North a better place than any stark before her yet mournful that “her northern prince had never come for her.” as one of her daughters had said we're her last words.

Bran still lived, though had abdicated the throne in favour of his young son by Meera Reed, going with his wife to begin his own long watch at the God's Eye upon its weirwood trees. When word had reached him of the young lady of the Neck going to stay with Bran, he wondered if she was setting herself up for heartache by loving a mostly unfeeling man. Yet, he had been told that for three days, the spirit of the three eyed raven had left Bran to be with his love and in those three days, Bran had been able to have heirs. A twin boy and girl. Apparently, those three days and the fruit they had borne after had been the happiest days of Queen Meera Reeds life.

And then Arya. Dear brave, sweet Arya. Arya had returned home 4 years after her voyage, her bags filled with maps of new lands as well as new crops, herbs and plants that did well in the winter and cold and had helped to feed and treat the northern people of illnesses as well as help in the North's economic growth as they began selling surplus to Essos and the 6 kingdoms. Seeing as the new plants only grew well in the Northern cold, they had a monopoly, which helped a lot.

Arya had been devastated that he hadn't been in Winterfell since she left, Sansa no doubt telling her of the hundred of letters she had sent to Tormund who checked in at the wall every few weeks. He still had some around. Sansa had always pleaded with him to come home. Home to Winterfell. What had Sansa didn't know is that her father's plans and mothers uncaring words had done their work too well. Whether taking back Winterfell from the Boltons, defending the north from the dead or even just walking it's grounds as a child. Deep within, he had always felt that he had never belonged. Whenever he walked below in the crypts, he had always felt the eyes of the statues of long dead Starks judging him unworthy to be among them. That he had seen nothing upon his death had just added the nail in the proverbial coffin for him. 

There was no paradise for bastards.

His few days with Daenerys before her fall had been the happiest of his life, for she never cared who he was or what name he had and loved him regardless. Then the truth of his heritage had come out and deep in her eyes, he could see the mistrust growing in her eyes. She never deserved such an unhappy fate. He had never deserved her. Never deserved Ygritte. Never deserved Val, the beautiful “princess” of the freefolk who had made it her life's mission to “steal” him when he came back with Tormund's group. He never deserved Arya. Brave, sweet Arya.

Of all those who had tried to track him down whenever he wasn't living near other freefolk, she had been successful. She had hugged him hard and never wanted to let go, spending a week with him before returning North. A few months later and her womb had grown heavy with child. His child. 

He had never been able to deny her most things and when he had woken to her naked body against his own under the furs, he had been unable to deny her once more. She had spent that week him, being free as they wished they had been when they were younger, when they promised to have adventures all over the world. Hmph, the only adventures they had were a series of snowball fights outside his hut but it had been a happy time in his seclusion all the same. She had also tried to convince him to come back but on that, he wouldn't budge.

Arya had given birth without much fuss on a quiet night I'm Winterfell without any assistance whatsoever, The maid nearly having a heart attack to find her feeding her little baby girl contently from her breast the next morning while the sheets were filled with sweat and blood. Their daughter was born with hair as dark as Midnight and eyes that were a bright violet. A perfect mix of her two parents ancestries. Arya had named her Nymeria. And though she had grown to be just as strong willed and brave as her mother, she was said to enjoy all the times her aunty Sansa would spoil her rotten with gifts and pretty dresses.

Jon had sent his own gift with Tormund on her 6th birthday. Something his daughter would give to her son's to protect their loved ones with. Arya had been said to visibly have tears in her eyes as Tormund had handed her LongClaw, the valyrian steel shimmering in her grasp. But he didn't need it anymore anyway. Better he pass it down.

It was painful to know that he had outlived all his siblings. Bran didn't count now as he watched over events of the world, waiting for the person born to replace him one day. Arya had died of a coughing sickness one morning at the age of 45, at least seeing their only daughter married to a Dayne from Starfall.

It was only him now. Broken and old remnant of an age of war, bloodshed and a Game of Thrones. He finished cooking his meal, ate it and slowly got back into bed as the Ghosts of his past moved before his eyes. He could feel his body getting weaker and weaker with each second, his heart beating softly as it neared it's final pulse and when he finally closed his eyes and breathed his last, he welcomed the warmth of the darkness that engulfed.

“I'm so sorry.”

##################################

“........ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!????”

Most of the Deities around the large celestial room looked uncomfortable and that was saying something as they were Gods.

The outburst had come from Balerion, Chief deity of the old Valyrian religion. His form of a Great black dragon was fierce indeed as we're those of his brother Vhagar and their sister deity Meraxes. The other Deities had never seen these gods of old Valyria this enraged since the last of the Dragon lords were betrayed and killed in the riots following the destruction of Valyria.

“This is how the great son of Ice and Fire ends his life???!!! An old broken man filled with regret, Shame and sadness!!!!! This is his end?????!!!”

Meraxes snorted in disgust and she was not alone. Beside the Deities on a weirwood throne sat the Old Gods in human form. One would wonder how all the gods of the Northern religion were represented in one body but when the single avatar spoke, it seemed a million voices came out as one. Their gaze, however, was on 5 deities in the room.

“This whole situation is your fault. If not for our people's low numbers after their cursed war with your andals, we should have had your religion expelled and people killed to the man, your soldiers used as sacrifices and the daughters of your worshippers used as Breeding stock for every life those of the first men lost.” The voices of the Old gods said, voice dripping with such Venom and fury that had the gods they spoke to recoiling back, for they had never heard it speak this way before.

The deities in Question were those of the Seven who are one…..not that they had ever been one to begin with, what with how the argued most of the time. The Father, The Mother, The Maiden, The Warrior and the Smith. All were the subject of the other Deities ire.

“We had nothing to do with….” The mother began only to be silenced by the loud roar of fury that came from Meraxes.

“Shut your mouth you WHORE!! You best be quiet before I smack you down and pass you round to every demon and Eldritch abomination still living in the darkness. You and that maiden slut over there are all tits, ass and harlot bodies with no brain to speak off. Silence your Whore mouth before I DO IT FOR YOU!!” The Female dragon deity said, her rage palpable.

The Maiden and Mother blushed in shame and embarrassment. It was not a secret that because they represent the “most cherished” aspects of womanhood that they were both quite gifted in certain aspects their body. Curvaceous, fertile and big breasted. Of course, this was also due to how mankind saw them as well.

“We DO NOT have to sit here and take this! We are the supreme Gods now and….”

Three Huge roars and the sound of a large blade being unsheathed silenced the words of the Warrior as the three Dragon Deities and the avatar of the Old gods stood up, readying themselves eagerly.

“As I recall, my dragon practically destroyed your centre of Worship and faith and 60 years later, none of those who followed you have renewed their faith or rebuilt your sept. You are at half strength, just the same as us since Valyria was destroyed. We three could take down 3 of you with us while the Old gods could wipe the floor with the other two of you, if you wish for the end of days to begin right here…..”

Most of the 5 gulped in fear at that. Of the 5 of them, only three knew how to truly fight other Deities and even if they survived the three Valyrian gods, the Avatar of the Old gods stood waiting. The Old gods were almost at full strength, seeing as even though many Northmem had died, none of the remaining ones had lost faith.

It would be a slaughter.

“Besides, why aren't you complaining against the Crone or the stranger? They are with us to….” 

Whatever words the Smith had been going to say were silenced as their two fellow deities glared baleful at him from where they had been talking quietly. Most unnerving was the stranger, who was more akin to a force of reality and the universe than a mere deity, the Smith feeling a cold dread from behind the darkness of the drawn up hood the stranger always wore, his face always in darkness.

The crone spat in his direction. “I give wisdom and guidance to those who pray to me, you muscled fool, I care not for how a person was born. It also doesn't matter who else the humans worship as long as it isn't something that causes their downfall and they ask me for guidance, I send it. Why do you think I never answer the prayers of any of those so called “Ironborn” idiots. Worshipping a half dead abomination that eats their souls upon death just to keep on living in this reality is the most idiotic of things. But if that's the way they want to go, that's their problem.”

Most except the Dragon and old god deities shivered at the reminder of the so called “drowned god.”

An abomination from the stars from another reality had come crashing upon the land, followed by the oily, wet black stone of meteorites than only sorcerers could manipulate and build with. It had corrupted most of the early humans born of the land and spread its influence. From the Seastone Throne of the ironborn, the large toad stone on the Isle of toads, The cities of Yeen and Asshai and even Hightower, the worshippers of the abomination spread their influence, their cultists building with magic and manipulating the meteorite stone to build monuments to their new liege.

Balerion had been a young deity then, as had the pantheon of the Old gods, both fighting back whenever the abomination paid them a visit to try and corrupt them or their followers.

All would have ended in darkness had not the foolish thing decided to open its mouth.

“That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons even death may die.” 

A chilling proclamation ...if death hadn't been within earshot. The force of nature hadn't known how death worked in the abomination's former reality, but here in Planetos, Death was not to be toyed with. The other Deities had not been able to witness the thorough beatdown that had occurred but suffice to say that afterwards, the now supremely weak abomination had been banished to the very depths of the sea, it broken form given shape only by the death or sacrifice of its followers, who were scattered themselves.

So they name had been given by its followers. “The drowned god.”

In the silence, The Father decided to speak up. “Besides, it's not as if you four are free of fuck ups yourself. You destroyed the valyrians, your own worshippers.” He accused, pointing a shaking finger at the three Dragon Deities then turned to the Old god’s avatar. “And you all let your “Children of the forest.” be slaughtered by the first men.

Vhagar huffed, finally speaking. “Our Worshippers had grown complacent, arrogant and soft as well as stupid. We made them to conquer and rule...not fucking destroy everything around them. Their war of annihilation with the Rhoynar was one such example, why we created the Doom. If they refused to heed the call of those that had brought them high above the world, we would throw them down completely. Twas only upon our sisters pleading that we let the Targaryens leave alive before we acted.”

The Doom of Valyria. It wasn't a natural disaster that had destroyed Valyria. But the birth of the largest and most powerful dragon to fly among the clouds, borne from the death of a whole people, it's shell a combination of the 14 flames. It had destroyed the arrogant valyrians before going into hibernation to await it's future master and rider, Jon Targaryen.

All for nothing.

The Old god's avatar nodded. “We did the same for the children. They had never given thought to sharing the land we had born them from. Truth be told, it was they who struck the first blow against the first men, giving us an unwanted sacrifice of their blood to our roots. It was then we abandoned them. And then they had the audacity to create a new race from the magic we taught them.” The avatar said bitterly as he looked up at them.

“When the White Walkers were created, we approached their leader, a former first man and a Stark to boot, with an offer. A daughter of ice would be taken to wife by a stark son. Peace would reign. They agreed only for the children to talk poison into the first men's ears, calling for an alliance to end the threat and a mixing of blood by marriage to the children with the first men. It was war afterwards. Only war. Hundreds of years later and the Walkers once more tried to make a peace pact, their king giving the Stark at the wall his daughter in marriage. But then the magic of the wall did no good to a man who married and took a wife while already making the vow. It drove him mad and he had to be put down after declaring himself king of Castle Black. Safe to say the Walkers were done with trying for peace and were ready to wipe all life in Westeros to do it.”

The crone sighed. “If not for the dragons and the son born of ice and fire...who knows what would have happened?”

However, Balerion wasn't done.

“BUT HIS STORY WAS NOT TO END THERE!!!! NOT TO END AS SOME BROKEN MAN IN A FROZEN HOVEL. HE WAS TO GO VALYRIA! RELEARN THE LOST TEACHINGS, AWAKEN HIS DRAGON! BUILD A NEW EMPIRE!! He roared angrily at the 5 deities.

Meraxes was next, though now more restrained. “But now, thanks to your teachings, he has lived his life thinking himself unworthy, unloved, unwanted. That bitch of a Tully would have been whored for free to the slaves if she ever tried to put down a child like that in Valyria.”

The avatar nodded, eyes ablaze. “Bringing your southern and Andal ways to the north in the form of that woman was a crime I will never forgive. And building a sept! In Winterfell! The heart of the North! Not to mention all that pathetic waste of honour that Arryn man poured into Eddard Stark's head. The king's of winter are no doubt giving him a dressing down in the afterlife. And then passing down all that stupidity to his son. A true stark would have seen the Bolton plot coming miles away!” It said, taking back it's seat on the weirwood throne.

“And bastards. Of all things to hate. It's no wonder the North is so underpopulated. The nobles of the North were always free with the unattached of their Smallfolk. Children born outside marriage were seen as a blessing than a curse, creating life in a harsh environment and thriving was how these children were seen. Many branches of families and houses were born from these children. Yet thanks to you, the north is an empty wasteland.” It said.

Silenced reigned in the celestial hall as finally, the Stranger spoke.

“And now, with his death and a few hundred years later the death of his line, humanity will be left vulnerable.”

Every deity turned to face the Avatar of death, moving to stand in the centre of the hall. “Far into the future, an army of evil will rise from the mountains beyond Asshai. Remnants of the army of the drowned one. They will have dragons, monsters, undead and all types of abominations at their Beck and call. They will descend upon the known world and then sail to the unknown until they have sacrificed all to restore their fallen deity.”

“Will they succeed? In restoring “it” ?” The Smith asked, fear in his voice though the Stranger shook it's head. “I made sure it will never rise again. It lives on borrowed time and will have faded into oblivion by then. But that does not mean humanity will survive or you will all either. As long as humanity worships and prays to you, you live. If they stop existing ...”

“So will we.” Balerion finished grimly.

The Stranger nodded.

“And so I must break the rules. Shake the board, renew souls and rewrite time. All in preparation to save humanity.” The Stranger said with a sigh. “I can only do this once and so we must hope that history doesn't repeat itself. I hope you see to that. And as fate is a fickle thing, only the son of ice and fire will remember all that has passed.”

The stranger began chanting in an old and ominous voice as suddenly, the six deities of the seven began fading away, their cries of shock and the crone’s laughter fading as they disappeared.

The three Valyrian deities began to shine however, glowing and overflowing with energy before disappearing as well, roars of triumph echoing in the hall as they faded.

Until all that was left was the Stranger and the avatar of the Old gods. The avatar merely seemed to close its eyes before opening them once more, slight shock on its features. “You...you have sent reality backwards, you've sent time backwards. Valyria is still intact, Westeros as well.” 

The Stranger nodded. “Indeed. Events will be different, down to the smallest of details. Deaths, births, actions. All changed by this new scenario. Hopefully... hopefully this will be enough.”

Gently, the stranger reached into it's robes and plucked out three glowing orbs. All were asleep. All awaiting to be born into this new timeline, though one it seemed to cling to the stranger's hand somehow, unwilling to let go.

The avatar stared. “Is that him?”

The Stranger nodded. “Even asleep as it is, he seems to know what I want to do. He does not want to return to all that pain and suffering. Tis why so many seek me out, seek my lasting sleep in the warmth of oblivion. While thousands pray for a paradise after death and hundreds know punishment awaits them, Billions beg for an endless sleep in warm darkness, away from the suffering of their mortal lives. Jon Targaryen did not want to see his family after death, see his friends waiting in the paradise he deserved. All he wanted was to sleep and forget.” The Stranger said, a bit of sadness actually creeping into his tone, though it was something he had seen many times.

The Avatar nodded, the Old gods also understanding. “And the other two?”

The Stranger looked at the other sleeping souls in his hands. “One will be one of those who would have comforted him and been his companions through his life. She was born a long time ago and has been waiting for him in Essos ever since until his end unfortunately. I have decided to let her be his rock on this journey, his one comfort as he moves to save this world. As for the other….”

The Stranger was silent.

“Yes?” The Old gods questioned.

“Daenerys Targaryen…..” He finally said, watching the reaction, if any, from the Avatar of the Northern gods. 

“Is that completely necessary?” The Deities simply asked as the Stranger nodded.

“Jon Snow...Jon Targaryen did no wrong. And for all her actions, Daenerys was not perfect. They are not gods. Amazing Humans perhaps, but not perfect. Daenerys had been through too many betrayals too quickly since she came to Westeros and Jon simply could not bare to see one of the only people to show him love turned to evil and paranoia and tyranny. They MUST resolve this...no, perhaps not. It's not something they must do but something I would like to see happen. I doubt even if they put the demons of their past to rest that Jon will ever be able to stand being with her..and this will no doubt hurt her but what happens, happens.” he sighed.

The avatar nodded though looked worried. “For all that we were at each other's side, you know that those of Valyria will not have their followers stop their practices of slavery or blood magic, nor do I think Daenerys will be able to do anything about it this time. You are sending them to a time when everyone with valyrian blood has a dragon. And they won't let her destroy the status quo ...”

“Yes well... adversity breeds strength as the humans say.” The Stranger said, snapping his fingers and watching the three souls disappear into the new timeline, to be born when the time was right, watching the avatar and his weirwood throne disappear with a final nod to him.

“Let us begin…..”


	2. Jaehaerys, Son of Valyria and House Targaryen

Begin in the past, Reclaim your future

Chapter 2

At its apex Valyria was the greatest city in the known world, the center of civilization. Within its shining walls, twoscore rival houses vied for power and glory in court and council, rising and falling in an endless, subtle, often savage struggle for dominance.

—writings of Yandel

#####################################

When Jon had been born once more into the world as Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of his name, he wondered what fresh Hell he had stumbled into before the last thing he felt was his closing eyes and sucking at his mother's breast. 

When he once more gained his mind, he was 6 years old, the old years of being a toddler fading away as he saw just when and where he had been reborn. If the thousands upon thousands of Dragons flying about weren't a dead giveaway, then the silver blonde haired and noble looking men and women with violet-purple eyes had been one.

Valyria. Home of the Dragonlords.

Jon may have been reborn as a Targaryen but that was where the similarities ended. Here, he had been born of Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife, Telana Velaryon. As such, Jon or Jaehaerys as he was now called, was born with the classic valyrian looks and ethereal beauty. Long silver blonde hair that came to his shoulders and near shining violet eyes which seemed to astound many who saw him. There was nothing of the North within him except his honour it seemed, which seemed to sadden him quite a bit.

Jon had tried to piece together his new life here and tried to make sense of everything. For one, he could not rely on any of his memories of anybody he knew, largely because when and where they were born and the events they had been were largely different. He was a prime example. Though he had never had much feeling for her after learning the truth, here in this strange situation Lyanna Stark was not his mother. It seemed Rhaegar had never set foot in the North here in this different timeline. It seemed the only place in Westeros he had ever set foot in was Dorne, where he lain with some random woman and brought forth a bastard daughter, his firstborn, Rhaenys Targaryen.

Seven Hells! If he needed more proof of where he was in time, then all he needed was to look towards Westeros. According to books, maps and official reference, they were still separate kingdoms, not under the Iron throne. Only a few Andals had actually come to Westeros and an invasion did not seem likely. The first men were still in control, but only just. The Eyrie and Riverlands had still fallen to an Andal horde and made the kingdoms of the Vale and Kingdom of the Rivers though.

Other differences were more subtle. Like the order of Birth in Rhaegar children. Rhaenys was now the firstborn and still half valyrian, half Dornish. Aegon was born a year ahead of Jon. Just small things here and there. There was also the fact Aegon the conqueror here was born as just another brother to Rhaegar from Aerys as were his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys, making them his uncle and Aunts. 

Dorne had actually been brought into one kingdom by Nymeria of the Rhoynar. But unlike her past self coming with 10,000 ships, she had only come with a thousand, all filled with troops for conquest. She had married into the Martell family once more and her children had once more ruled as princes and princesses of Dorne. Many Valyrians had raged that the Rhoynar peasants were getting a headstart on conquering Westeros, many vowing Dorne would be the first to feel Valyria’s fire when they came calling. But he was getting ahead of himself with that….

When Jon was born, House Targaryen had already been on the slow decline. They were a Freeholder family and did hold lands and had a seat on the assembly of freeholders, no doubt. But ever since becoming head of the family, his great grandfather, Aerion, had been selling off bits and pieces of it every now and again, reducing the size of their holdings and reducing their power slowly but surely, something his grandfather Aerys (Who didn't seem a Mad king at all from the description he was given of him) had been bitter about. All of Valyria was beautiful and majestic with their near neverending towers and building, it's Dragon roads and Pavilions and cities. But the Targaryen had moved to the very lowest of one of their cities, Zaldrīzes as it was called, to live in one of the smaller estates they owned. One of four that they had not sold off….yet anyway.

However, they were still part of the 40 families of the Lords freeholder and thus lived a more comfortable life than lower noble families. And they still had Dragons.

But Jon knew he would have to harden his heart to some things that still remained in the Valyrian culture and would remain no matter what. For one thing, slavery was a great part of Valyrian culture now, ever since the valyrian’s first battle with the Empire of Ghis. For now, they were at peace and had been for 4 years, though rumours had it that war would break out once more in time as both Empires clashed in power struggles and want for more land.

Slaves were everywhere. Farming the fertile lands outside the city, working to the bone in the mines for the gold, silver and black ore as well as the precious gemstones the valyrians prized so much. They were there in the many Valyrian and Targaryen estates, waiting on them hand and foot for their every need. Cooking their meals, washing their clothes and doing everything and nothing their Valyrian masters had them do.

And though Jon had indeed tried to treat them more kindly, more humanely than any Valyrian had ever actually done, it was always disappointing to see that beyond their relief that Jon would not come at the with lash and steel to whip or cut them bloody for the smallest of mistakes, they were still afraid of him. Some had actually seen it as a privilege to be under the Valyrians. If not for his actions then for the mere simple fact that these slaves saw most Valyrian with their dragons and the beauty as Gods.

And nobody wanted to anger the Gods for fear of their wrath.

He was 9 when he had seen the extent of how the Valyrians had trained and used their slaves. There had been a lovely, beautiful Ghiscari slave that had been attending him ever since he was 7, a “present” from his mother. Zeshala Lez kuzn had been her name. She had been a beautiful woman and kind rather than submissive when she saw that Jon would not treat her like property as other valyrian children had been brought up to do.

However, his uncle Viserys (who Jon had hoped to never meet after the stories Daenerys had told him of his madness) had taken a different approach to his kind treatment of Zeshala and the other slaves.

Unlike what Daenerys's stories had taught him, it seemed that being born in a time of Valyrian rule and supremacy as well as not having thoughts on regaining a throne or running from assassins had done his uncle some good. However, though not insane or highly unstable, his arrogance and sense of entitlement had skyrocketed. Not unlike other valyrians, so Jon guessed there was nothing new there. However, though he treated Jon kindly, calling him “little Nephew” and all, his appearance had set out alarms in Jon's mind. For if Viserys was here, then Dany wouldn't be far either.

But back to his tale.

Viserys had thought his treatment of the slaves and his personal attendant slave, Zeshala, unfitting of a Valyrian noble child of one of the 40. “Jaehaerys! You have to begin early, show them that you are their master, their Overlord, their new God. Valyrians, especially those of the highest nobility such as ourselves should live no other way.” He chastised him. He had sat Jon down in his rooms, called in Zeshala and ordered her to strip. Zeshala had done so without hesitation, revealing her well curved body and large breasts to them, not a hint of shame on her face as if this was all expected of her.

Viserys had then proceeded to fuck her in front of his nephew, Jon watching with no hint of change to his cool and innocent facade outwardly yet inside he could not be more shocked. Especially when he heard the screams of pleasure Zeshala was letting out in high Valyrian, begging his uncle to use her, to come undone within her and seed her with his child, which he finally did after 10 more minutes of using her.

“Use them, control them, make them worship and beg for your favour Nephew. Valyrians are God's among men and this is how they should see you.” He had grunted, smacking Zeshala hard upon her ass, leaving her cunt dripping his seed and leaving Jon with her, no doubt expecting his nephew to fill with lust and use her as soon as he was alone.

And to Jon's shame, the idea had crossed his mind. Whether due to him being a full blooded Valyrian now or just living among these people who saw others as mere property and flesh to be used, he did not know. But it seemed the fabled “Dragon Blood” was awakening in him. Subtly, his mindset was changing from an honourable person to that of one who saw all in his view as his by right. And he did not like that feeling.

Jon was proud to say that he had merely called in two other female slaves and had ordered them to help Zeshala to their slave quarters to clean up. Afterwards, he had never brought up his uncle's actions that day or used her as his uncle and Zeshala expected him to. She had attended him as usual until he finally saw the curve of her belly one day and knew his uncle's seed had taken root. He had informed his mother Telana, who had merely shrugged, informed their uncle and sent Zeshala to him. For the whole of her pregnancy and months after the birth, she would be treated like royalty for bearing a Valyrian child. Afterwards, she would join his uncle's personal group of mistresses as many Valyrian had or be kept as a pleasure slave. Whichever Viserys found pleasing.

Jon never saw her again.

####################################

Another thing that Jon would have to get used to was the sexual nature of Valyrian society. He had thought the Dornish extreme in their appetites as most of Westeros had. However, Dorne was a mere Shadow when it came to Valyria. It was one of the reasons the freehold established the nine free cities, due to the fact that (as at one time in his previous timeline) at this moment, there were a very large number of Valyrians. Not surprising with how much sex was a way of their life. Nobles of the lower families gave their wives and daughters freely to heads or relatives of the 40 in order to gain favour with them, some of these daughters being taken as second wives or official mistresses. Heads of the 40 were known to walk into a lower nobles house, spend the night and fuck their host's wives, sisters, mother's or daughters should they please. And their host would allow it, hoping for favours, political or otherwise.

Those who found their bellies growing with child after these encounters had the option of telling the biological father and demanding, favours, gold or to be taken in as a second wife or mistress if unattached and the father in question was of a high rank or nobility.

Another option was that they carried the child to term and gave it to the freehold orphanages at birth, who would care for them until the age of 16, at which time they would pay back being raised on the freehold's coin by serving 6 mandatory years in the Army or Navy. Some of these bastard children stayed on, seeing a situation to rise in power in their occupation to defend Valyria and some favoured and talented of the new youth were given leave to see if they could ride a Dragon into battle. (It seemed that even though thousands of dragons flew, rested and protected Valyria and its surrounding lands, very few of them actually had riders. Of the 3,000 mature dragons only 400 had found riders. And of the 10,000 and growing clutches of eggs, only 60 had warmed in a valyrian baby's crib, choosing a rider at birth.)

The Valyrians children born of slave coupling with their valyrian masters mostly met this fate, unless their father or father's head of family decided otherwise. They were to be cared for and protected as any Valyrian child should, but would be give over as their mother's (or father's if a valyrian lady had a child sired on her by a pleasure slave) prevented them from joining the family proper or inheriting anything from them unless decided by his father. Thus, the Army of Valyria always had a steady flow of recruits who stayed on even after their 6 year mandatory service was done, hoping to claim glory in battle enough that the assembly of the 40 gifted him or her noble status and gold to begin his own minor house or their father's or mother's family acknowledged them enough to bring them into their fold.

Truthfully, the Targaryens of his previous time had truly let go of a lot of their heritage while integrating into Westerosi society and culture. While it had been a scandal for a Targaryen king to take two wives in Westeros, here, he had heard of a head on one of the families who had 5 of them! 5 fucking wives! He then had 7 mistresses and at least 12 pleasure slaves, not counting the many female slaves he just found comely that he came across and fucked around his estate. When it came to fielding an army from your loins, Walder Frey had nothing on the families of the freehold.

His father Rhaegar was and oddity in this, seeing as he kept to Jon and Aegon's mother, Telana, as his only wife and lover and excluding the mother of Rhaenys in Dorne, he had never slept with another. Viserys had no such restraint, sleeping with any willing valyrian lady who opened her legs to him. (though it was said that he was more of a “Quickspill” that not many called him back to their beds after)

And then came the incest. Something he had been expecting. While about a quarter of the valyrian population did have marriages between them and other families, it was no surprise that most made marriage arrangements within their families. Aunts marrying their nephews (as Daenerys had once proposed) Uncle's marrying the nieces. Brothers to their sisters. None of this was actually frowned upon, but encouraged to “keep the blood pure.” Indeed, it seemed their innate magic kept those born of these unions completely healthy, both physically and mentally, unlike what others who practised it. (as the Lannisters had found with Joffrey.)

All in all however, Jon..now Jaehaerys, had a lot to do if he ever wished to gain Independence from his family and move away from the freehold's influence, which seemed to grow every other day. It was either that or restoring house Targaryen to a stronger position within the freehold, with enough pull within the assembly of the 40 to curtail their expansion. Both seemed impossible tasks even just thinking of them.

It was thus to the surprise of many in the Targaryen family that at the young age of 10, he had taken a carriage to the Army outpost to join on a 5 year term, his training and enrollment to take place 6 months after signing on. Indeed, the master in charge of army enlistments seemed eager to have a child of one of the 40 enlist. For when word spread that one of these high noble children meant to join the army, then the rest would do the same, sending their heirs and spares to the Valyrian army or Navy in hopes of not being shown up by a lower or higher family of the 40. And with these heirs would come their dragons, fully matured, huge and ready for battle, which meant easier campaigns.

And Jaehaerys enlistment had come at the right moment, for a few days later, The Lord's freeholder had declared the third war upon the Ghiscari Empire.

The Blood of the Harpy would flow and the Legend of Valyria's White Dragon would be born.

For once more, House Targaryen would rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all those expecting battle scenes or flashbacks to epic battle scenes, I suck Hard at those too, so don't expect anything but vague references to or statements to Jon's performance in the war. The next chapter has smut, so keep your lotion ready, lol. 
> 
> Also, I know alot of diehards are going to have a freakout over how the families are mixed up. Of course Aegon was the father of the Westerosi line of Targaryens and not a son of Aerys. But this timeline has mixed up so many things when it comes to births, years etc. As you've seen, Jon isn't Lyannas son here because of this mixup.
> 
> I'm not looking too much at accuracy here, trust me. This is just interesting plot mixed with mega smut after all. If it brings someone into the story, I'll have the Sand snakes be some random Dornish lords daughters instead of Oberyns for example (Not that that will change, their still Oberyns girls.) So go with the flow.
> 
> Kudos are love and comments and ideas appreciated. Till next time.


	3. All is different, All is the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kellersab wanted a fleshing out of characters, events, motivations and shit...I'm writing on a phone for Pete's sake, ain't nobody got time for that😂😂😂 
> 
> But I gave it my best shot. I'm not that good though. So here you go. No smut for you though 😗
> 
> Ps: please nobody ask about exact dates and how these events, actions and different people from different times being in the same time is confusing or doesn't match.
> 
> This is a new Timeline...and You gotta DEAL WITH IT!!!

Begin in the past, Reclaim your future.

Chapter 3.

The timeline has been distorted and rearranged, those who would have lived are dead, those who are dead have a new chance at life and those who remain have had their stories rewritten.

#####################################

In the Dragon Homeland of Great Valyria, the Freehold prepares it's forces for a third clash with The Ghiscari Empire, both great nations vying for supremacy over the other as the known world awaits with bated breath for the Third clash of the Dragon and The Harpy.

The Freehold's stance is clear. Those of Valyrian blood will conquer and rule the known world, From the far East to the lands of Westeros, they will rule. Conquest and domination is the lifeblood of its people and the Dragonlords and Ladies of Valyria shall not be dissuaded. Thus enters a young and reborn Jon Snow, Jaehaerys Targaryen to those who know him and yet no not of his past life, as he seeks to make a name for himself in the coming conflict and restore house Targaryen to a great power within the Freehold. Reborn in this new timeline, Jon Snow's destiny will be greater than even he could know.

####################################

But elsewhere, in the lands of Westeros, events are unfolding within the Seven kingdoms. To the Frozen North, King Brandon Stark, “The wild Wolf” has just returned from his military campaign against a Bolton rebellion, one that has claimed the lives of his father, Rickard, His brother Eddard and the Assassination of his youngest brother Benjen. The Bolton line has been destroyed root and stem however, ending the line of the Red king's of Old and securing the north for the Starks once more.

All is not well however, as King Brandon has been grievously wounded during his campaign and should he pass on without a male heir, the Crown of the winter king's will pass on to his sister Lyanna Stark, who will have the burden of rulership thrust upon her. She will also be left with the duty of seeing to Brandon Stark's bastard Daughters, Sansa and Arya, by princess Catelyn Tully of the Kingdom of the Riverlands and how best to placate King Hoster Tully for this “Disgrace” to his house.

#######################################

In the Kingdom of the Vale, the Queen Sharra Arryn has lost both her king and Child, prince Ronnel Arryn, to sickness. Though Queen through being a cousin of the Arryn family and with the support of most of her lords, Queen Sharra must find allies outside her kingdom to deal with the ever growing threat of invasion of the other kingdoms. The kingdom of the Vale may have the most natural and strongest of defences in their mountains, but no kingdom can stand alone forever.

#######################################

The Stormlands rages on in its battle against any and all comers yet is feeling the weight of fighting various battles simultaneously. King Argilac Durrandon is left with only one son and one Daughter, Robert and Argella, after his two other children, Stannis and Renly, were killed in a battle with Harren Hoare's best reavers, the Greyjoys. Robert managed to Avenge this loss of his kin however, killing 4 of Harrens children in all in one battle and leaving the Greyjoys near extinction but for one of the families Daughter, Asha. Argilac also helped the men of the Riverlands, giving them coin, food and weapons to fight back again Harren's army, even taking the Huge Castle of HarrenHall before it could be closed off for a siege. With this, The Ironborn have been pushed off back to their islands and a pact of friendship made with the new king of the Rivers, Hoster Tully. However threats from Dorne and the Reach are still a problem and so new ideas must be formed to deal with these problems as they come.

########################################

The Proud House of the Westerlands, the Lannisters. Richest house in Westeros. The lions of the Rock hold firm against all invasions and strike out with fury at all who would dare step foot in the Westerlands without the lion's permission. It's current king, Tywin Lannister, has not too long ago put down a rebellion by House Reyne and Tarbeck, killing males of both houses to the children and only keeping Ellyn Reyne, one of the Reyne's daughters, as a ward to be used as he sees fit. The lion has had enough of waiting and defence however and has begun plans for conquest. In his mind, Tywin sees a Lannister Dynasty over a united Westeros, the Red and Gold lion flying over every castle and keep in the land. He see his daughter Cercei, a Queen over all ladies of the land and his son Jaime a future king without peer. But to make this future come true, he needs powerful allies and as he sends his daughter and granddaughter across the sea to the Valyrian Empire, he hopes he will have them soon.

########################################

The Kingdom of the Riverlands is quite new, compared to the rest of the Kingdoms, having been under the boot of Harren and his brutes for so long, King Hoster has had to play a dirty game with his kin. Unfortunately for him, this does not seem to be going to plan. The Riverlands has no natural defences. And though House Tully now rules from HarrenHall, a great defence in its own right, it is not enough. And so king Hoster has done his best to form alliances through diplomacy….or trickery. He has been near selling off his few Tully relatives in marriage to any powerful houses in other kingdoms that would take them, making sure the children born from these unions form a basis for a defence alliance. But even minor houses from other kingdoms would not be enough.

No.

King Hosters ambition had been to Ensnare a king and he had turned his eyes toward the Starks. A good king Brandon may be, but the Northerners and their lords were a randy and free bunch with each other's daughters and Smallfolk, siring a few dozen bastards here and there, when not scowling over winter that is. Sending his only daughter Catelyn North to Winterfell with the excuse of “establishing diplomatic ties” before joining the winter king in his room for the evening had done the trick. Not once, but two times had the Northern king sired children upon his daughter, unfortunately both being girls. But even hearing that the king Brandon may be at death's door would not deter him. “Honour” demanded appeasement for the “disgrace” done Catelyn. 

And so if Brandon died before he put a male heir in Catelyn’s womb, then Queen Lyanna would have to take Edmure as her king and husband. It was either that…... or war.

########################################

The Kingdom of the reach is one of the most fertile, beautiful and powerful kingdoms in Westeros, the kingdom of the Westerlands being the only kingdom coming close to it in its might. King Mace Tyrell is it's current ruler, his family having been stewards for the Gardner king's before his family and house's ascension to power. Despite the power of his kingdom however, king mace and his family face their own set of problems. Their most pressing being the ambitions of the King Tywin, king of the Westerlands, who no doubt saw the reach as a prize for the taking. The King of the Westerlands has already tried to take the Reach in 4 different conflicts and when that failed, tried to forge a tie through marriage of his son Prince Jaime to Mace's daughter, Princess Margaery, but after advice from his mother, Queen Dowager Olenna Tyrell, The “Queen of Thorns” such decisions were not followed through with actions. In the coming months, it will be a battle of wills and armies to see which Kingdom will topple the other, a battle the Lords of the Reach eagerly await.

######################################

The kingdom of Dorne was ruled by House Martell. The Dornish had no kings and Queens, their leaders prefering to style themselves Princes and princesses instead. Ever since the landing of Nymeria 600 years ago, The Dornish have raised their spears as a unified kingdom, Nymeria conquering every squabbling King and leader under the Banner of Nymeros Martell. Beyond a few trials at invasions, the Dornish have kept to themselves, trading with their cousins across the sea in the Rhoynar lands and generally ignoring the rest of Westeros. Dorne, just like the North, was a terror to wage war against unless you knew the terrain. And no one but the Dornish did. It's current Prince Doran has instead focused on growing it's armies and grooming his daughter Arianne for rulership while Doran's sister enjoys the water gardens and his brother Breeds every whore and willing lady across the seven kingdoms and beyond, siring daughter after daughter upon them. By this time, Doran fully believed that the only woman Oberyn had never taken to bed was a Valyrian.

But speaking of Valyrians...whispers had reached the Dornish. Rumours and talk from their Rhoynar relatives across the sea. That in the Freehold's halls of power, preparations were being made. Busy with the Harpy the Dragon may be for now...but soon. Soon, the Dragon would set sights on further conquest. And Westeros was in its sights. The Dornish thus sharpened their blades and readied the arrows.

For who knew when the Dragons would come to blot out the sun of Dorne.


	4. The Harpy and the Dragon.

Begin in the past, Reclaim your future

Chapter 4

Jon was wearily writing down reports in his war tent, the large and spacious living quarters one of the only comforts given to soldiers who were related to the 40 families. It was only a few weeks into the third Ghiscari war that Jon realised that though the Maesters had documented accurately that there had been 5 Wars against the Ghiscari, they had never stated how long each lasted. 

He had been 10 when the war started. At war's beginning, the war council of Valyria had sent 30,000 soldiers to begin the conflict. 10,000 infantry, 10,000 Calvary and 10,000 Archers. A neat and tidy little beginning. 500 ships ferried and followed them throughout the beginning of the war, bringing them food and other supplies. From what Jon had gathered, the last two conflicts had been won without the actual need of unleashing the Dragons upon their enemies, the Harpy's forces believing “the sheep lovers” army nothing but shit.

Valyria had proved them wrong.

The Ghiscari legions were known to use the Disciplined “Lockstep Formation”, using spears and shields while marching close together and forming close ranks to each other, a great detriment to Infantry and Cavalry with their long spears out and defended well against arrows when formed up. The unsullied of Jon's time had used something similar while serving Daenerys. Unfortunately, they were two problems with then and now.

The first two wars were a defeat for the Ghiscari Empire merely because they underestimated their enemies skill and technological might. In the first war, the Valyrians slaughtered and sacked old Ghis merely because their famed legions simply underestimated their prowess in battle. And had paid for it in blood and slaves. The second time had the legions finally show their formations in full, proving troublesome.

In answer, the Valyrians had lined up large trebuchets and deadly accurate, 5 shot ballistae (something Jon was Happy Cersei's forces had never been able to recreate when facing Daenerys) and proceeded to fire at the disciplined lines, watching as their legions lines were skewered though with large ballista fire or crushed under the falling Trebuchets massive thrown ammunition. And once again, Old Ghis and surrounding Ghiscari paid in blood, their wives, daughters and son taken as slaves and their gold and copper mines stripped. Strike Two!

The first problem that Jon just saw was that the Ghiscari never had the urge or the mind to recreate or improve their war technology, leading to their defeat when faced with a force that had bothered to do so.

The second was even simpler. Disciplined and obedient the legions may have been, but Jon had been basing them on the unsullied. But these men had never known the pain or training an unsullied soldier had faced. When they saw their fellow soldiers die or heard the roar of a bored Dragonlord’s Dragon in the distance, they felt something the unsullied never felt even when facing legions of the undead.

Fear.

And this always made them to run.

This time however, their tactics had been annoying yet effective to a point. Old Ghis, Meereen, Yunkai, Astapor and Zamettar had sent their legions flooding out to face the Dragon's army. 300,000 hardened soldiers in all. The Harpy and it's Emperor would not suffer another disgraceful defeat or at least not without making Valyria pay for it in it's soldiers blood.

The first 30,000 soldiers must have been shocked at their enemies tenacity this round. But all the same, battle would be joined. They had sent a messenger by fast ship and hopefully reinforcements would arrive soon.

At the same time, While most of the Valyrian families and nobles began celebrating a third victory over the Harpy and fresh slaves being brought in, (some already contacting their favourite slave masters to make bids, disgusting Jon immensely.) Jon was busy with his training, something that he was amazing his fellow recruits and training sergeants with. For a ten year old boy, Jon was easily carrying out the harsh exercises and drills the sergeants were giving them easily. The long runs, in full armour and gear to weigh them down and add to their stamina and resilience came easy to Jon, running as if the gear weighed nothing. The sit ups, press ups and running courses were a breeze and learning and adhering to the formations they were drilled came as second nature to Jon, something he could not explain. 5 months after signing up, Jon returned to the Targaryen estates, wearing the official valyrian army set of Valyrian steel armour and a simple yet deadly Valyrian steel swords at his side. 

Jon had nearly fainted seeing so many simple recruits receiving the precious and deadly armour and swords. Apparently this was standard for every single person in the army. While the secrets to its forging were kept to the Valyrian smithing guilds and families, the prized Steel was apparently readily available to anybody with the money to buy it or anybody in the army. Those who finished their terms in the army were actually left with their armour and swords as a gift and presented with an entirely new and decorated valyrian sword and dagger for their service. Though it was heavily forbidden to sell them outside the Freehold (without at least charging a horrendous sum of gold), the forging and smithing of weapons and armour was allowed to be seen by Valyrians who wanted to try and learn. It was no secret to even the lowest of Valyrians, who daily apprenticed with Smiths to learn and become Smiths of their own and make some gold. Apparently, House Targaryen even had a smithing family sworn to them who made the families weapons personally. It was also actually impossible to steal Valyrian steel items, as magical ruins within the armour and weapons had them seemingly rust and turn to dust within a few hours of their users death, unless another with Dragon blood within them laid a hand on them.

Jon did not know if another doom was incoming in this timeline. But he would be damned if he didn't learn how to create and Smith valyrian steel, write down the process and send it by a raven to Winterfell. Forget the advantages it would bring against the white Walkers. Being the only kingdom with loyal Smiths to House Stark would help his former family greatly in its economy. He may not live that long but he would have paid good gold to see Tywin Lannister seethe at the large prices the Starks would set for such treasured weapons.

That said, Jon was received (much to his embarrassment) with much celebration at his arrival and successful entry into the Valyrian army. Most of his Targaryen and Velaryon family were there to greet him as he came back to their estate in Zaldrīzes. Rhaenys had given her little brother, Jon gulping silently as his half sister and near every beautiful woman in the family smothered him in a “hug” to their rather large and firm breasts, knowing smiles and winks at him making him near sweaty.

“Ohhhh, I knew my wonderful “little” brother Jaehaerys would make it. His always been so serious and broody, they just had to take him in.” Rhaenys had said playfully much to the family's laughter. She had then leaned in. “And I can just feel those muscles you've grown dear brother, perhaps you'd like a reward from your big sister for doing so well, hmm?” She whispered in his ear, making Jon go red as he felt a stirring in his loins. (“I'm too young for this! Ladies are not supposed to make me horny for another 10 years if I have anything to say about it! Stupid Dragon's blood!” He internally screamed.)

“Mother, I haven't hugged you yet.” Jon near shouted, running for his life and into the amused form of his mother, hugging him happily and watching as the females of the family giggled at Rhaenys obvious flirtation and watching her last born dragon like a piece of fine meat that was up for grabs. Poor, poor Boy. If he survived the night without one of his aunt's having her way with him or suggesting that he “feel how soft” their breasts were, then the Dragon God Balerion was looking over him.

He wouldn't put it past his sister to ride him through the night, what with that boiling mix of Dornish and Dragon blood in her. Her poor Aegon was being left both traumatized, sated and begging for more all at the same time after every evening. It would be good for her to focus on her other brother now.

Telana kissed Jon's brow then. “I'm so proud of my youngest Dragon. Nobody actually knew if you were going to make it through the training. You have brought glory and praise to House Targaryen.” She said.

“Indeed. I and your grandfather have never felt so proud and smug standing before the Assembly before.” A pleased voice said, Jon looking up to see his great grandfather and the family's current head, Aurion Targaryen, standing before him. He was old, now going into his seventieth years. But the blood of Valyria was amazing. Except for his silver blonde hair now going a brilliant snow white and a slight growth in his straight and silky beard plus a few creases on his brow, he was still spry and walking tall and straight. Though obviously his war days were over.

He looked down at his great grandchild, his very aura commanding respect as the Dragon Head yet still pride showing in his purple eyes and tone of voice.

“You have brought great respect back to House Targaryen, young Jaehaerys. Your ancestors would be pleased, as am i. The day word came to the Freehold's assembly of the youngest recruit joining the army and a Targaryen at that! Ha! I could see the embarrassment of most of the heads. None of their families had sent any recruits, dragonriders or otherwise, in the last 50 years to the army or Navy. House Targaryen has had 2 in the last few years to join the army, now 3 thanks to you. And when many started sending their heirs to join up, half of them failed completely in the first month of training while a quarter of them were only taken in due to having a Dragon's bond. Many an heir has been replaced and sent to their families estates in Gorgossos in shame.” He said, happy at his fellow heads disgrace.

Jon just sighed in relief. At the very, House Targaryen was gaining some of its respect back.

“Your grandfather wished to be here as well but asked me to pass on his and your grandmother's congratulations. They are currently in Lys with your youngest Aunt Daenerys, overseeing her training with the sorcery guild. She is said to be quite accomplished and may be the next Targaryen to bring our family back to prominence.” He said happily.

Jon was shaking inside at the mere mention of Daenerys's name. He didn't care what she was doing as long as it was far away from him. He did not think his heart would survive another encounter with her or the memory of having to kill her. Better they never met till the day they died.

Afterwards, the celebrations had well gone into the night and the following day. Jon had expertly avoided his lustful aunts, their daughters, their daughter's friends and Rhaenys herself, much to her frustration. He had actually felt sorry (or not so much, seeing as Aegon was kind of a prick) for his brother as his sister and three of her friends dragged him away to her bedroom, Aegon begging for mercy. From the glass vial Rhaenys was holding, some aphrodisiac perhaps, they would be using him all night.

He had also avoided his uncle Aegon (who had arrived without his sister wives a few hours later) and Viserys, both seemingly wanting to get “Jaehaerys to let go of that pesky virginity of his.” From what he had seen of their beautiful and seductive entourage, Aegon had brought in expert courtesans, high class whores and beautiful slaves from Lys to tempt him. Fortunately, they gave up after an hour of searching and took their ladies to the rest of the guests which made the party dissolve into one big orgy from what he could get of the moans and screams of pleasure emanating from the party room.

Jon had simply gone to the library, taken one of the books on Dragon Handling and moved onto the steps outside the gate for a nice read as well as planning his next move. When the cheery dawn was finally greeting the partying estate was when Jon witnessed someone on horseback rushing towards him full tilt.

His message shook him to the bone as he rushed into the party room, barging loudly through the doors and not even blinking at the sight of his naked and fucking family members strewn around the rooms laying around whore, courtesan or with each.

His mother Telana Hastily pulled a strewn gown to her naked body at his entrance, the lust draining from her features.

“Jaehaerys, what's the matter?” She said a bit embarrassed yet worried at his entrance.

“Ah, perhaps he has finally decided to join the family…” a naked Viserys began, groping a beautiful whores breasts, only for Jon to stop him mid sentence.

“The first army and its 30,000 reinforcements have been destroyed at the gates of old Ghis. The assembly has called on all new recruits and the 70,000 more men to meet the Harpy in battle. This war is nowhere near over, it's just begun.”

Shocked silence was all the reply he was given.

####################################

5 years later and they were still fighting.

It had not been incompetence or lack of good weapons and command that had made the first army lose however. It had all been numbers, overwhelming numbers. The legions had left all tactics to the wind when the Dragons army had been in sight and rushed them in an unending tide of bodies and spears and seeing as most of their ships had returned back to resupply at Valyria, only a few had been able to get away and call for aid in the dozen remaining ships.

30,000 fresh recruits and 70,000 of the war ready army had landed near Old Ghis, seeing their fellow soldiers dead bodies strewn and desecrated by the enemy and they had felt fury awaken in them. The Ghiscari would pay.

But it was not that simple. For the Ghiscari had a few new tricks up its sleeves. 

For one, Pirates all the way from Ghis to Quarth and Asshai had been hired to form an almighty fleet that harrowed their supply ships as well as attack Valyria's daughter cities like Volantis, Myr and Lys, forcing the mighty dragon Navy to split between defending the Armies from pirates attacking and defending the free cities.

The next was nighttime war tactics. Even with lookouts and even with sight being difficult in the dark for them, the legions were known for night time raids, rushing into the various army camps and slaughtering the unsuspecting and sleeping soldiers. They did pay dearly when alarms were sounded, losing almost all their men in the ensuing furious slaughter from the Valyrian army.

But these night time attacks did have a toll. 15 of the 40 Freeholder sons and daughters who had joined the army, all of them heirs to their family heads and 6 of them bonded to dragons, died in one raid. The rest were recalled with haste back to Valyria.

Valyria, the army were told, was weeping. The Deathcry of the heirs some called it. Killed without a fight.

And this was just the second year of the war.

Jon had hoped that the deaths would be enough to awaken the fury of Valyria, to set loose an army of Dragons upon Ghis as they had upon the Rhoynar in his old timeline. But it was not to be.

A logical mind would have seen how dragons would have ended the war quickly. But not since they were but Shepherd being raided by Dothraki or passing war hordes had they felt such grief and bitter defeat. Valyria was arrogant and had paid for this arrogance in the blood of its heirs. The 40 feared that sending more of their precious Dragon bonded heirs or family members would see more death (not that anybody in this whole new timeline had ever even killed one Dragon before) and seeing as not every valyrian could bond to a Dragon, the 40 and nobles guarded them jealously, even if it was their wish to battle.

Jon had never seen or heard of a more pathetic people at this time.

But once more, a “lesser” House of the 40 stepped up.

House Targaryen had 4 Dragon riders in its ranks, all mastered Dragonlords with supreme control and bonds with their Dragons. His father Rhaegar was one. Aegon (his uncle) was another and with him his two sister wives were others. And so, in the third year of the war, it was with a large roar that Vhagar descended like winged Death upon the battlefield, raining fire and pain among the legions of Ghiscar as the army if Valyria begun to finally take the offensive and wreak vengeance upon them.

Visenya Targaryen had entered the battle.

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He often wondered if Aegon the conqueror (now just Aegon his uncle) was a stupid man when he began to unite Westeros. Not in his wars no, but in his personal life. The history books would often say that Visenya Targaryen was not as womanly as her sister Rhaenys and thus was not as loved as her sister by their brother-husband.

Jon wondered what type of milk of the poppy they had been drinking when the Maesters wrote their books. Because by the Old Gods! That woman was beautiful!

Visenya Targaryen had come to see him in his tent that night as he studied a map of the surrounding land near Old Ghis. At the moment, he was still a messenger due to his age but would still be expected to fight soon in the normal army should the need arise. He was thirteen now and though those in the army usually joined at 15 or 16, when their bodies were stronger, he wasn't like most of them, his body growing physically despite his age. He studied the map in hopes of finding some strategy that could help in their battle the next day.

He had been moving to finally put the map away and go to sleep when he had seen his Aunt. “Aunt Visenya!..I..I didn't see you there.” He mumbled, embarrassed. His aunt merely cocked her head slightly at his embarrassment, her full red lips giving way to a slight smile on her face. “Hmm, Your mother was right. You are quite cute!” She finally said, her voice husky and sensual. (“Fuck all Maesters who wrote History books! Rhaenys was more loved my ass!” Jon screamed internally as she approached him.)

Dear Meraxes! Visenya was gorgeous. That black valyrian steel body shirt wasn't hiding the shape of those huge tits and Jon could see the sway in her hips as she walked. Her body must curved as a Dornish sand blade underneath those clothes and that face! The face of a seductress and warrior all in one. Uncle Aegon must be an idiot!

The slight smile on Visenya's face grew into a smug smirk and it was only then he realised that he had said the words out loud. “Umm, I….!” He began only for Visenya to wave him off. “No need to explain yourself Jaehaerys. If not for your grandfather pushing us together, I would be nowhere near your idiot of an uncle. For all that he is my brother and my husband, love has never been in our marriage and I suspect my sister simply enjoys the gifts and affection he gives her and pays it back with the pleasures of her body.”

Jon sighed and nodded. Suddenly, Visenya pulled him to her, glomping him to her large and soft breasts, watching with amusement as her nephew's face went bright red. “Ohhhh, I'm going to have lots of fun training you nephew. People think your Aunt Rhaenys the tease but I'll have you squirming for my enjoyment soon enough.” She said, moving to nip lightly at his ear. An (ahem) obviously manly “eeppp” was all the reply she got, her laughter beautiful as she left his tent, leaving him blushing furiously and fighting REALLY HARD not to get erect for his Aunt. “Stupid Dragon's blood! Stupid Dragon's blood! Stupid Dragon's blood!” Was all he muttered as he moved into his simple bed, pulling the blankets above him and drifting off to sleep.

##################################$

It is with great pride that every morning at a little after dawn, Jaehaerys Targaryen aka Jon Snow, reborn son of Valyria would wipe the floor with his Aunt Visenya in training spars. It was a great treat to see her stunned face every few minutes into the spar whenever his practice blade was at her throat, heart or stomach as they traded blows in front of the early risers of the army, all of them stunned as well.

Nobody had ever been able to defeat her, not Aegon, not Rhaenys and not even some of the commanders of the army. Yet Jon took great pride in doing this every time they sparred in the morning before battle for the end of the third year at war and the whole of the fourth year, Vhagar's presence and burning of the legions every battle crushing the spirit of the Harpy more and more. Surrenders had already started up and down the Legions and soon, the Dragon would break the Harpy's spirit.

Visenya soon came to their spars with unseen fury and moves unseen in most her battles. Jon would simply counter each and win every single time. For Jon, his aunt was incredibly slow. This may have been the woman who conquered Westeros and saved Aegon from countless skilled assassins and Mercenaries, but Jon had faced the Fucking Nightking in battle. Him and 5 of his commanders. Jon had had to train a ridiculous amount to match their speed and skilled to just hold the off, their own skills honed for thousands of years. The first time he killed a White Walker was luck. He hadn't wanted it to be luck the second time.

And so Jon had it easy no matter how many times Visenya came at him. Life was good it seemed, until…..

He gulped as his defeated aunt woke up from the ground, moving near him and letting her hand move to fondle his cock hidden in his trousers before walking away, a smirk on her face.

It was with great worry that Jaehaerys Targaryen aka Jon Snow watched Visenya's obvious arousal and lust grow every time he defeated her. 

Perhaps he should have let her win?

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To be continued…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo sorry for the wait but as I have told some guys in the comments, I'm traveling so it takes some time to update. I also know that I promised smut this chapter but well....I am traveling with people. Hard to find private time to do so especially when writing on a phone and everyone wondering why you're "texting" so much.
> 
> So I guess this is filler until next time. Hope you enjoy. Leave some kudos, share the story and keep it bookmarked. As always, comments and suggestions welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Author: "How many women do you want, Jon?"
> 
> Jon Snow: "Yes"
> 
> Author: "How much plot and backstory does this poor author have to write for such a half porn, half plot fic?"
> 
> Jon Snow: "Yes"
> 
> Author: (Suspiciously) "How many chapters do you want?"
> 
> Jon Snow: "......Yes"
> 
> Author: "OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!."
> 
> PS:Will make an edited version of this chapter with Bold for the Gods speech once I get a hold of my laptop.


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